It always was a circus around Russell Foust

January 08, 2008|BILL MOOR

Russell Foust, of South Bend, could have performed as a stand-up comedian even when standing was no longer an option. "Recently, Russell needed help getting out of bed and into a chair, but he always kept his sense of humor," says his wife, Loraine. To the very end. That came last week not that many days after Russell had celebrated his 104th birthday. Too bad he didn't write his own obituary. It would have been a corker. "Russ always had something funny to say," says longtime friend Russell Thomas. "He had a business called Old Fart Lawn Service and was still mowing my yard when he was 85. He was quite a character." His funeral was Monday. If he could have, Russell would have sat up in his casket and gotten off one more wisecrack. Laughter was his fuel, his fix, his favorite thing. I was at his 100th birthday celebration and he was a laugh a minute:

When asked about his health: "How do I feel at 100? How do you think I feel? I'll tell you after I take a little nap."

When given a commemorative paperweight from South Bend official Lynn Coleman: "That might make a nice doorstop."

When he realized someone had slipped a comical crown onto his head: "Now how did that get up there? It must look like I'm wearing a spittoon on my head."

When a young woman hugged him: "Hey, better not talk to me too long. My wife does get a little jealous."

When asked about his longevity: "My wife forced me to live this long. Long ago, I almost married her mom instead."

But maybe the funniest moment came when he was handed his birthday cards and he pretended to read them without his glasses, making up randy verses on the spot. "I'll miss him so much," says Loraine, 88. "He owes me because we were supposed to go together." Besides Loraine, his wife for 54 years, he is survived by his son, Jay D., and several grandkids and stepgrandkids. None of them followed him into his first profession -- a circus performer for Barnum & Bailey. He worked both as a clown and a trapeze artist as part of the Foust Flying Dare Devils. The only flying Russell did in recent years was down the basement steps just after his 100th birthday. He tripped and fell, but playfully accused Loraine of pushing him. "I'm worth more dead than alive to her," he later said with a chuckle. After his circus days, he became a used-car salesman -- which can be a high-wire act in itself. In his later years in his River Park neighborhood, he ran his lawn service out of his house. But when he reached his 90s and after three knee replacements, he usually toured the area on his scooter, collecting cans and dispensing jokes. "He rides that scooter north, south, east and west," Loraine said when Russell turned 100. "He has no boundaries." He did have plenty of buddies, though. Nobody was a stranger to Russell. A year ago on Russell's 103rd birthday, Loraine told me: "Russ loves to invite salespeople in and then starts entertaining them. We had a couple of Mormon boys in here a little while ago and they could hardly get away." And now after 104 years of living, Russell Foust is gone -- the only time he didn't leave his admirers laughing. Bill Moor's column appears on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Contact him at bmoor@sbtinfo.com, or write him at the South Bend Tribune, 225 W. Colfax Ave., South Bend, IN 46626; (574) 235-6072. Bill's book of columns, "Moor or Less Volume 2: Old Soldiers, Good Neighbors and Loyal Dogs," is now available at the Tribune's front counter or on the Tribune Web site for $9.95.